


More Than Words Can Say

by OdetoKosmos



Series: Home Sweet Home [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Birthday Brynne, M/M, Saying sorry in time is so important, gross fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdetoKosmos/pseuds/OdetoKosmos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually, this was the time Misaki got up every morning. But, today he wouldn't.</p><p>They had fought last night. There was a limit till which he could stretch his self respect. And Saruhiko fucking crossed it last night. </p><p>Or...</p><p>Misaki was positive that if he smiled a little more, he would sprain his facial muscles. </p><p>It hurt to smile so wide, but he couldn't stop smiling; it hurt to love someone so much, yet that only made him love Saruhiko more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Words Can Say

**Author's Note:**

> Domestic Sarumi is my substitute for oxygen. Well, to be honest, any kind of Sarumi is. 
> 
> I cannot thank Sebacielfantacies enough for being the most awesome beta, and bearing with my incessant attempts at driving her crazy. Thank you so much.

 

The alarm clock on the bedside table went off with its irritating shrill tone, and what was more irritating was the fact that it was pretty accurate. For it, 5:30 in the morning was 5:30 sharp. 

 

Misaki reached a hand out to the general direction of the ringing, and managed to thump it off after a few fumbled trials and errors. 

 

Even through the heavy cloud of sleep nestling in his mind, he managed to feel a little ping of pride going off in his chest at how it took him significantly less number of trials to shut the darned thing, and that too, without having to get up. 

 

Usually, this was the time he got up every morning. Not because _he'd_ be late for work, no, but because his stupid _boyfriend_ would. Misaki was pretty sure that the only thing his boyfriend was good at was being a perfect jerk - and wouldn't for the life of him, be able to get ready for work by himself. 

 

So, Misaki got up, stumbled his way to the kitchen, and cooked breakfast for a major asshole, all the while cursing at every thing under the sun. 

 

And, seriously, who the fuck likes to get out of bed shit fuck early in the morning, even in winters, because your precious boyfriend works for the most annoying and sadistic boss possible, _when_ , when all your boyfriend does is sleep right through it, while you cook, pack his lunch, get his water warm, iron his fucking elaborate uniform, and pick the slightest traces of vegetables and fruits out of his daily diet one by one? 

 

Still, Misaki did it. 

 

But, today, he wouldn't. He had sworn upon his pride that he wouldn't do any of this today. So, he lay gloating in the bed and slowly falling back to sleep when another alarm rang out in all its horrible, cackling intensity. 

 

From Saruhiko's bedside table. 

_"You can take care of yourself from tomorrow morning"._

Misaki jumped up, startled, and watched in stunned annoyance and a little bit of awe, as a pale, thin hand shot out from underneath the lump of covers on his side and switched the alarm off in one go, with overwhelming precision, and disappeared under the blankets immediately again. 

 

Misaki looked on with exponentially increasing irritation at the lump beside him, but failed to detect the slightest trace of movement. 

 

 _You know what, fuck it all_ , thought Misaki, _I'm not going to wake him up and I definitely don't care if he can't go to work in time. Especially if I know that he has a meeting today._

He huffed in irritation and quickly regained his warm spot under his blankets. 

 

 _Blankets_... 

 

Well, they definitely did not need _blankets_ to stay warm every night. Not on the nights they weren't fighting. The complicated burrito of tangled limbs that they constructed around themselves generated more heat than the best of room heaters. 

 

But, they had fought last night. 

 

_"You know what, you don't deserve this, Saru, and I'm done with this. Let's see how you do without m –"_

 

Misaki felt a little pang in his heart when he remembered Saruhiko's deathly cold fingertips and toes even in Misaki's embrace. Goodness knew how many degrees below zero the temperature under Saruhiko's blankets were. 

 

For the note, Saruhiko had always been a cold person. On winter nights, he'd tumble inside their apartment looking like hell had frozen over, and he was just back from there. It would take cups of warm milk and hot showers and an embarrassingly large number of hours spent in Misaki's embrace for Saruhiko to unfreeze and start talking.

 

And this was just  the first month of winter. 

 

And cold... like that too. The slightest of things would make him shut himself off completely, and what was more disturbing was the stark lack of any emotion whatsoever in his eyes. It was stunning how cold and sharp his azure eyes could turn into, meeting his unflinching gaze like that was like cutting yourself. 

 

And _cold_ , like the abandoned hallways of a huge mansion, a cold room, cold stares and cold snickers... no wonder his heart had frozen to the core. 

 

And Misaki, he knew that his asshole of a boyfriend did not always mean what he said, or could not always say what he meant – he knew it was his duty to melt the ice with his warmth. 

 

" _You're just gonna cook for me again the next morning, Misaki, you're pathetic at holding on to your self respect..."_

But, ah, they were fighting. There was a limit till which he could stretch his self respect. 

 

And Saruhiko fucking crossed it last night. 

 

. 

 

It began with their characteristic squabbles, Saruhiko working frenziedly on his laptop at their table and Misaki on the couch, complaining about how much of an _insensitive slob_ Saruhiko was. 

 

Then, they started fighting about how they fought in general, and how they ended the fights. Saruhiko commented with a grating smirk about how Misaki was always the one who said sorry first. Of course Misaki indignantly replied that it was not the fucking truth, but his words were not enough convincing, he reckoned, since what Saruhiko had said was pretty much the truth. 

 

Saruhiko's smirk only grew when Misaki threatened to stop talking with him forever, and then he fucking did it. Well, he overdid it, to be exact. 

 

Misaki fisted his hands in the sheets. 

 

" _So easy, Misaki..._ "

 

Saruhiko shouldn't have said, that however bad their fights were, Misaki would always come around and wake him up and cook for him the next morning, because, Misaki was so easy. Then he shouldn't have said, that Misaki being so pathetic saved him a lot of trouble.

 

Then he probably would have said some more, but Misaki stood up firmly, told Saruhiko that he had fucking crossed the line and that he would have to take care of himself from the next morning, which, according to what he said just now, he could. He had stomped off to the bedroom, and both of them knew he meant it for once. He needed a break from this thanklessness. 

 

. 

 

He felt more hurt than angry. 

 

Misaki's train of thoughts came to a halt as his eyes fell on the bedside table out of reflex, and he swore. 

 

It was ten past six. 

 

And Saruhiko's reporting time was seven. 

 

And, it would be a shame if he didn't get there, he'd really worked his ass off for this shit. 

 

And, missing one of these meetings meant metric tons of extra paperwork, leaving Misaki with the aggravating task of getting up at midnight and dragging an almost unconscious and unresponsive Saruhiko to bed. 

 

He didn't know which was worse. Losing his pride or his sleep. 

 

Misaki gingerly put a hand out and tentatively shoved the miserable lump beside him. 

 

_"And every single time you'll come scrambling to say sorry, Misaki, you always come around"..._

_It's not like I'm helping him or anything_ , Misaki reasoned, _I'm just getting him up, and then he can do whatever the hell he wants to._

Because this was his nature, he always forgave people, he always came back, he never stopped trusting, he never stopped hoping - not even when having hopes hurt more than being hopeless. 

 

He was always giving second chances, and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't. Even when it hurt. 

 

And, _well_ , he couldn't just stop talking to Saruhiko _forever_... 

 

It took three consecutive shoves and an exasperated yell and a veritable string of expletives to get the lump to stir, and then almost fall out of the bed as it got down, still caught in the sheets. 

 

Saruhiko stood beside the bed dumbly for a while and looked behind his shoulder once, clearly in confusion and a sleep induced daze. As Misaki turned to his side and prepared to sleep again, he heard Saruhiko make for the living room, stumbling twice and hitting the table once. The fact that he did not swear, Misaki wondered, was proof enough that he was not completely awake yet. 

 

 _Good_ , he thought, the string of sleep connecting again, _let him take responsibility for his big words once. Let's see how he manages without me._

 

. 

 

Saruhiko walked out into the living room, his knee hurting a little where it had hit the table. He looked at the kitchen once, feeling out of place due to the lack of the smell of Misaki's cooking that he had grown so used to in the past few months. He promptly decided to skip breakfast. He was used to it. 

 

He considered going to the bathroom, but turning the geyser on and getting some hot water ready seemed like too much trouble, so it was dismissed as well. 

 

The only place left to be was the couch, since he didn't want to go back to the bedroom once more, now that he couldn't afford the forgetfulness of sleep. 

 

He was awake now and it was back to him. He and Misaki were fighting. And it was all his fault. 

 

He was clever enough to realize that this was not like their usual fights. The usual fights resulted in a fuming Misaki, but last night, Misaki had looked so... hurt. It was unusual. Misaki's emotions were seldom so quiet - they were loud and bold. Misaki never looked like that. He was so open, so... 

 

" _You're so easy, Misaki..."_

Saruhiko felt his legs give out on him and he dropped to the couch, feeling limp and sore. 

 

That was definitely not what he had wanted to say, not the way he'd wanted the conversation to turn out, not the expression he wanted to see on Misaki's face. 

 

That smirk, that intonation, those thoughts - it wasn't like he meant them, it was just that he _couldn't_ help them. 

 

Not that he'd ever admit it, but he knew Misaki put up with him a lot. He knew he was difficult by normal standards. 

 

Difficult. Troublesome. Unsocial. Inarticulate. Insensitive... Detached ...Cold .. _. so terribly cold..._

 

He'd never admit it, not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. Because the words would stick in his throat and refuse to move out. Because his brain stopped functioning properly when it was _Misaki_ standing in front.

 

Because he was too afraid of losing it, of losing Misaki. 

 

He was too afraid of being rejected, that was what. 

 

He was too afraid to acknowledge that he was afraid. 

 

He was too afraid of hurting Misaki, too afraid of breaking him, because that rough exterior that Misaki put up, was almost exactly the opposite of how he was. 

 

Loving. Caring. Understanding. Forgiving. Always looking out. _Always coming back._

_"And every single time you'll come scrambling to say sorry, Misaki, you always come around..."_

 

And he had done just that. Hurt Misaki somewhere it must have hurt the most. 

 

The increasing irritation and frustration at himself clawed in his brain, burning his heart like acid, scratching at his throat until it was raw, hitting his eardrums with bursting force until his ears started ringing. 

 

And, it was there. Again. No matter how hard he tried. 

 

" _Heh, monkey, now see what you've done!"_

 

He noticed Misaki's red cardigan which Misaki had dumped carelessly to one side of the sofa. 

 

He slowly picked it up and clenched it tight, and felt his breathing hitch involuntarily. 

 

_"It's a wonder that boy's still with you, you don't deserve any of this!"_

_"Stupid monkey, can't you do anything but destroy?"_

Saruhiko couldn't breathe, every minute of the last night coming back to him, how he'd sat frozen at his seat after the bedroom door closed shut, how he'd felt frozen to the bone, how he finally went to bed at five, and didn't sleep one wink. How those whispers sent chills down his spine. 

 

But the cardigan, and the couch - they smelled faintly of Misaki, because Misaki was here just last night, Misaki was here... Misaki... 

 

He buried his nose in the cardigan and draped a hand over the couch, and inhaled deeply the scent that he missed so much, that he had grown so used to that he couldn't fall asleep without it, that was enough to shut up all muffled whispers and mocking laughter in the back of his mind. 

 

Misaki...

 

_Misaki... I..._

 

. 

 

When Misaki jumped up on the bed and looked at the clock, it read 6:30. 

 

Judging by the lack of spine chilling sounds of everything breaking, or of the smell of food on fire, or even the sound of water in the bath, something was so not right. 

 

Misaki groggily got down from the bed and walked towards the living room, stretching and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. 

 

The bathroom was unoccupied. 

 

The kitchen was untouched. 

 

The living room was seemingly empty too. 

 

 _Okay_. 

 

Saruhiko was nowhere to be seen. 

 

 _Did he_ , Misaki thought, the first pangs of panic beginning to form in him, _did the bastard just leave or do something equally stupid?_

 

He scrambled around the living room, and something on the couch caught his eye. 

 

_Holy Lord._

 

Curled up on the couch in all the glory of his long, bony figure and dreadful pallor was his stupid boyfriend, glasses askew and hair all over his _stupidly_ beautiful face. And Misaki's red cardigan clutched tightly in his fists. 

 

Misaki felt something surge up painfully inside of him, something that made him want to kiss that vulnerable look off his boyfriend's face. 

 

Misaki slowly approached the couch, too much in shock to decide how he even felt at that sight. He drew in a sharp breath when he was near enough. 

 

There were dark bags under Saruhiko's eyes, stark against his pale face. _Probably he didn't sleep well last night,_ Misaki thought, _not that he does anyways._ His lips were slightly parted and brows slightly furrowed, and Misaki was suddenly unable to summon any of the irritation or anger he'd felt last night, feeling a different kind of hurt now and being overcome instead by an urge to cup that vulnerable face in his hands. 

 

Saruhiko stirred when Misaki's hand was an inch away from his face, and Misaki jumped back to a safe distance. 

 

Saruhiko opened his eyes, the usual azure hues a tad dull, maybe from sleep or the lack of it, and who knew what else. They stared at each other for a while like that. 

 

Saruhiko sat up suddenly, so much so that Misaki feared the creak was not from the couch but from Saruhiko's neck.

 

Saruhiko sat rigid, back straight, hands fisted at his side, and Misaki stood straight, hands crossed over his chest. And just as Misaki thought Saruhiko was sucking in a breath in preparation to speak, he averted his eyes and clicked his tongue. 

 

Misaki felt something twist inside of him, like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on a fire that was just starting to form. The hollowness was back, and he was somewhat annoyed at himself for even expecting the other to say something. 

 

All he'd thinking about from the morning, all his attempts at rationalizing Saruhiko's behavior at times came to him with in a kind of mocking vengeance. 

 

_Serves me right..._

_For being so easy..._

But, however hard he tried, he could not ignore the fact how Saruhiko's fingers were fisted in the red cardigan, and Misaki's lips threatened to curl up into a fond smile. _Can't help it with this guy...and this guy can't fucking help it._

Misaki cleared his throat and did his best to sound as grim as he could. 

 

"It's six thirty. What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

 

Saruhiko looked off to the side, petulantly, like a child being chided for watching too much TV. 

 

 _Not helping,_ Saruhiko's little pout was not helping at all. 

 

"Get your ass to the bathroom and wash yourself. I'm cooking". Misaki turned on his heels and made his way to the kitchen, cursing at everything under the sun with practiced ease. 

 

.

 

Saruhiko moved to the bathroom in a trance, his sleepy brain slowly filling out the details of the hazy face that he'd seen first thing in the morning, the face that he knew by heart. 

 

The geyser in the bathroom had been turned on. 

 

Saruhiko stood dumbly at the door to their bathroom, suddenly overcome by a stupendous rush of feelings that seemed to cut off all connection between his brain and body and left him paralyzed and gasping for breath. 

 

 _Misaki_... 

 

Suddenly it came crashing down on him how much Misaki sacrificed each time he came around and said sorry, each time he did something to break the ice, not caring if the sharp shards cut him, each time Misaki hugged the tense body close and rubbed soothing circles on his back and chanted   _it's okay whatever it was it's over now it's okay._

That took a lot more strength than sitting rigidly in one place, holding on to only his point of view. All he did was to think about everything that could go wrong, than just trying to fix the problem at hand. 

 

He remembered how he'd prepared to say sorry to Misaki when he'd woken up on the couch, and how Misaki's face had fallen when he had just turned his face away and clicked his tongue. 

 

He took a step back. 

 

He had already made up his mind. He was not going to see the hurt on Misaki's beautiful face anymore. 

 

He wouldn't let Misaki be sorry for something that was not his fault. 

 

He wouldn't let Misaki feel sorry for loving him. 

 

He turned and walked towards the kitchen. 

 

. 

 

Misaki was packing a small portion of food for Saruhiko's lunch when he felt a gloomy presence hovering at the entrance to the kitchen. He smiled involuntarily to himself and to the omelette sitting on the frying pan. 

 

"...", the omelette seemed to mumble. Misaki jumped up and turned back. 

 

Saruhiko was indeed standing at the entrance, a hand on the door frame to support himself. He looked even thinner than usual, collarbones and elbows jutting out at sharp angles and a heavy, unfathomable tiredness writ large on his face. 

 

He was looking at the floor, his hair shadowing over his eyes. But Misaki knew that Saruhiko was looking at him from underneath all that hair. 

 

Misaki quirked a brow, and cocked his head to the side. 

 

Saruhiko looked at the floor still, knuckles white where they clenched around the frame. The rising and falling of his chest was uneven, and he kept clenching and unclenching his fingers. 

 

"Misaki..."

 

Misaki looked on, silently, something warm building up inside him again. The idiot was trying for real, he was trying hard and that seemed like all that mattered. 

 

"Why?"

 

Misaki took a deep breath. "You ask why? Because... "

 

Saruhiko looked up. 

 

"... I care about my kitchen is all. I don't want my home on fire. This apartment was not _easy_ to get, you know." 

 

Saruhiko's jaw dropped slightly, and he clicked his tongue again. 

 

Misaki's lips curved up slightly, the bastard was still pretending his lips were not quivering, or his throat was not tight, or his fingers were white because he was fisting them, but not because they were cold. _This guy really is something..._

Misaki's breath suddenly caught in his throat, seeing his boyfriend cover the distance between them in three long strides and suddenly they were facing each other, with his wrist gripped deathly tight in a pale fist, knuckles white and shaking and freezing cold. 

 

He looked up, genuinely curious now, all his façade having fallen away now that Saruhiko's face was so close to his, every detail clear to his eye, every agonizing detail speaking the words that were caught in Saruhiko's throat. 

 

"I...know – I...", Saruhiko half mumbled, half gulped his words down, and felt his body tense like a jolt of electricity passed through it. Misaki's hands were instinctively on his back, rubbing soothing circles. 

 

"It's - "

 

At this point, the words did not matter to Misaki anymore. He could see what the other was getting at, and hell – 

 

"No, it's not okay," Saruhiko grit his teeth, " _Let_ _me_." He took a deep breath and continued. 

 

"... I know I hurt Misaki last night. And I...never want to hurt Misaki – I'm... "

 

Breath. Gulp. Breath. Gulp. _Shudder_. Breath. 

 

"Saruhiko–" 

 

"I'm sorry."

 

The words which had lumped at his throat for so long tumbled out of their own accord now. 

 

He had his eyes tightly closed and when he slowly opened them and looked up, Misaki was smiling again and Misaki's eyes were warm once more. 

 

Saruhiko had never known a bigger relief. 

 

Misaki stared at his boyfriend for a while, slowly being aware of the stupid smile on his face. 

 

"It's okay. It's over now, and come here, you asshole."

 

He forgave easily, because _really_ , forgiveness was divine. And this was _so_ worth it. 

 

Saruhiko suddenly bent forward and buried his face in the crook of Misaki's neck, and inhaled deeply. 

 

Misaki moved his hand up and down the trembling back and the rigid shoulders. _What a big baby_. A tug on Saruhiko's shirt and he moved back and suddenly they were kissing, Saruhiko's hand tightening on Misaki's wrist and Misaki's hand fisting the clothing on Saruhiko's back. 

 

It was achingly sweet, the kiss was, the familiar motions of their lips moving in sync were, and occasionally the noses bumping too, and everything that they couldn't speak of was somehow getting communicated to the other through it. 

 

They stopped together, of a mutual accord and pulled back slightly, the stupid smile still on Misaki's face, and the stupid colour painting Saruhiko's stupidly beautiful face. Misaki finally gave in to his desire to cup Saruhiko's face in his hand; Saruhiko tensed momentarily and leaned into the touch. 

 

Misaki could tell that Saruhiko was fighting really hard to believe it. The difference between Saruhiko's usual smirk and this vulnerable face had Misaki's heart melt out. 

 

Saruhiko gulped. "I – you're not going to leave then?" 

 

Misaki frowned, and held Saruhiko even tighter. "When did I ever say that?" 

 

Saruhiko couldn't keep out the shake in his voice this time. "Why do you bother?" - _to stay, to put up with me, to hold on, to love me?_

Saruhiko looked off to the side once again, the blue hues shimmering behind the thick lens of the glasses. His grip on Misaki's wrist managed to get even tighter, bordering on pain. Misaki ignored it, focusing on Saruhiko's face and trying to decipher the hidden emotion this time. 

 

Really, he should be getting paid for this. A full time, 24/7 job. Of topmost priority. 

 

Misaki exhaled a breath and turned Saruhiko's face so that amber was looking directly into blue. 

 

"You know why, Saru?"

 

Saruhiko's eyes widened, the lashes fanning out. His breath hitched. 

 

"Because when you really love someone, you just don’t stop. _Ever_. Even when...the person is hellish difficult and a massive jerk at times. Specially then. And I, I really... ", Misaki stopped to swallow around a sudden lump in his throat, "...care about you and I lo-" 

 

Suddenly, his air supply was cut short and his vision went dark, leaving him gaping like a fish. It took a few agonizing seconds to realize what had happened - Saruhiko had flung his bony arms around Misaki and was hugging him with all his might. 

 

Sometimes, the overwhelming strength contained in Saruhiko's seemingly frail body stunned Misaki. Like now. 

 

"I care about Misaki too."The words came out muffled due to being said against Misaki's skin.  "And, Misaki, I...love Misaki too." 

 

Saruhiko pulled back a little, so that Misaki could see his eyes, but he kept them down. His voice was a dry murmur when it came out. "I'm not as good in speaking my mind-", it dropped even lower, barely above the sound of breathing, "...and I know I hurt you a lot, but I... feel it too, Misaki." 

 

The next words were not more than whispers against Misaki's skin. "Thank you for...putting up with me."

 

Misaki felt something warm pricking at his eyes, and the lump in his throat almost choked him, but he was breathing easier than ever, his natural happiness gushing out from every outlet that it could find and flowing endlessly. He felt the color rise in his cheeks, and the small hairs at his nape standing up, felt the warm blood gushing in his veins and the happiness rising up in torrents from the core of his being. 

 

Misaki was positive that if he smiled a little more, he would sprain his facial muscles.

 

It hurt to smile so wide, but he couldn't stop smiling; it hurt to love someone so much, yet that only made him love Saruhiko more. 

 

Saruhiko's fingers against his skin were still cold, and slightly trembling. 

 

" _Tch_ , idiot monkey," Misaki's voice was so full of exasperated affection that it made Saruhiko lean a bit closer."Did you sleep at all last night?"

 

Saruhiko shook his head slowly, exhaling shakily, lips pressed together tightly. 

 

Misaki frowned a bit at the failure of his endeavours to make Saruhiko smile - as enigmatic as his face was when he was gloomy, as he was approximately all the time, it was even more beautiful when he smiled. 

 

He tilted his head and placed a sound kiss on Saruhiko's cheek, and then on his forehead. He lifted his head up further and pecked Saruhiko's lips. That did it, Saruhiko broke out of his reverie with a start – blue eyes wide and a conspicuous color on his cheeks, lips curled up too much, albeit unwillingly, to not qualify for a smile. Misaki laughed. _Stupidly beautiful._

 

"Tell me dumbass, if I didn't cook breakfast, what would you do?"

 

Saruhiko shrugged non-chalantly, still smiling. "Skip it." 

 

"Lunch?"

 

"That too." Another shrug. 

 

"Saru, seriously, what the heck did you do when you stayed at Sceptre 4?"

 

Saruhiko tensed again, and gulped, too many unwanted memories of empty coffee cups and dustbins overflowing with calorie mate wrappers flashing before his eyes - but his thoughts came to a sudden halt when suddenly Misaki jerked free of his hold. 

 

" _SHIT_! Have you looked at the time, you asshole? There's no fucking way you can get there on time!"

 

Misaki was alternating between looking at the clock once and then at Saruhiko, both with equal amount of disbelief. 

 

It was ten to seven. 

 

Saruhiko took hold of Misaki's wrist again with a pleased hum that effectively stopped Misaki's rant and began to walk towards the living room. 

 

"What the f-", Misaki began, but Saruhiko cut him off.

 

"I'm gonna skip it."

 

Misaki was taken aback; as much as he didn't want Saruhiko to be burdened with extra work, he also didn't want Saruhiko to leave, so if he was staying home, he would never really reject - 

 

"I finished my share of paperwork last night and sent it to the Captain. So I can take a day off today..." Saruhiko trailed off and added in a quick and cautious succession, voice carefully guarded once more, "...it's fine if you don't want it though –“ 

 

Misaki didn't let Saruhiko finish his sentence and twirled him around, so that they were facing once more, and brought their foreheads together. 

 

The sun had risen fully by now, and the sunlight was streaming inside the living room, and bouncing off the edges of their furniture. Saruhiko noticed vaguely how the sun formed a halo around Misaki's head, and how the rays of the winter sun seemed bleak compared to Misaki's dazzling smile. 

 

He leaned his weight against Misaki and brought up a hand to circle Misaki's waist, another hand on Misaki's wrist. His face was cupped in one of Misaki's palms, and Misaki rested the other around Saruhiko's neck. Misaki's hand was warm, and suddenly Saruhiko didn't feel the cold that had been gnawing at his bones from the last night. 

 

They breathed slowly in the space between them, Misaki's fingers playing with the small hairs of Saruhiko's nape, Saruhiko's fingers dancing on Misaki's waist. 

 

Misaki pulled back a little. "Of course I want it, idiot." 

 

Saruhiko looked up, opening his mouth to say something and Misaki spoke again. 

 

"I want you to stay." Misaki's lips curved up again as he added with a huff, "Idiot monkey." 

 

Saruhiko stared at Misaki for a while, Misaki's face, adorably red on the cheeks, Misaki's eyes, burning bright in the soft light of the dawn, Misaki's smile, everything laid right in front of him, just waiting to be read. 

 

And he read it. Misaki – was _happy_. Misaki was happy that he was staying. Misaki was happy that he had apologized for once. Misaki was happy that he had spoken his mind. 

 

And if such little things made Misaki so ridiculously happy, he would do them, however much it hurt to get the words out. 

 

Misaki sighed quietly, feeling ridiculously happy. He fell against the couch with Saruhiko still hanging on him, and they lumped together like they always did, Misaki's head against Saruhiko's chest, and hand around his waist, Saruhiko's chin on Misaki's head, and hand circling his shoulder. 

 

It was strange indeed, how they managed to curl four pairs of limbs and two heads in so concentrated a space, like it was strange how they could fit so much of love for the other in their hearts, so much love that words would never be able to express. 

 

It was borne of these small moments, and it dwelled in these moments. 

 

It didn't need the words. 

 

. 

 

Misaki's hair smelled of safety, of home. 

 

Saruhiko's heartbeat spoke of dependence, of love. 

 

It was warm, and they were together, and together was home. 

 

. 

 

That they woke up again at approximately ten minutes to ten, with completely dead limbs and sore necks to realize that they had fallen asleep like that was entirely another matter altogether. 

 

That Misaki's stomach rumbled loudly enough to break Saruhiko's sleepy stupor was completely a different issue. 

 

That Misaki stated with absolute finality, his hands crossed over his chest, that he was too hungry to make it to the kitchen and they'd both have to go without food unless Saruhiko cooked and that Saruhiko rolled his eyes promptly with supreme efficiency and flicked Misaki on the forehead was natural after all. 

 

That Saruhiko suggested skipping breakfast for the day and Misaki called  Saruhiko _the dumbest ass in the entire universe_ and that Saruhiko bopped Misaki squarely on the head with a cushion was part of their daily routine. 

 

That Misaki could not retrieve the cushion from where Saruhiko held it above his head was – _well, nothing new,_ because Misaki always told himself, that the irritating length of his boyfriend's chiseled arms had something to do with his infinitely irritating attitude. 

 

That Misaki gave up in sheer irritation after a while and stood up to look for something to feed himself and his stupid asshole of a boyfriend and that Saruhiko pulled him by the wrist to capture his lips in a chaste kiss was almost bound to happen. 

 

And that Misaki smiled against Saruhiko's lips and whispered an _I love you_ and that Saruhiko's cheeks reddened and blue eyes softened while he replied with a _Me too –_  

 

... That was what their lives were all about.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hope you made it through this. 
> 
> This is your birthday gift from me, Brynne, and I really love you so much. Thank you for staying by me and helping me find my family and so much happiness. I am grateful to you more than words can say, so, yeah, this one's for you. Happy Birthday!


End file.
